Son of darkness
by StoneScorpion
Summary: I want to bathe in blood, drown in blood, die in blood: be it mine or that of millions. A random oneshot Dark Jak fic


Scorpion: Yes, this was written as I listened to head-banging music and let my muse for violence escape. It switches between past and present tense, I don't know why. But this is Dark Jak telling his tale, not him at the moment it happens…

----------------------------------------------------------------------

I don't know when I was born, when I manifested into something that t even have a name that is my own, but must share with this frail mind that has become my sanctuary. I don't know how I got here, I only know the whole process was slow, my life being merged with his drop by drop. When I first came I was splintered, incomplete, nothing more than a slowly mounting existence of hate and fury. I had no strength but that of his own fear – an emotion I gorged on, the only thing that kept me alive as I lived on in the dullness of limbo. But frail mind that has become my sanctuary. I don't know how I got here, I only know the whole process was slow, my life being merged with his drop by drop. When I first came I was splintered, incomplete, nothing more than a slowly mounting existence of hate and fury. I had no strength but that of his own fear – an emotion I gorged on, the only thing that kept me alive as I lived on in the dullness of limbo. But the more I fed on it, the more it changed into shimmering anger. It was because of that anger that I became complete, when the meld was finally made perfect, when I saw for the first time through real eyes, and felt heartbeats in my chest – when I first became aware of skin and bone. When I first laid eyes on that orange rat, and the anger built up inside, bursting through.

And I felt those straps snap like brittle twigs under my hands, or like frail bones. I felt a sick sense of vertigo as I hauled myself up from the chair, claws seeking flesh, dragging air in past my fangs, filling my lungs, our lungs. I can still hear Jak in the background, clambering at my thoughts, scared and shocked.

Ahh, yes, I remember it well – the first time Jak let me loose…

I could see my reflection the rats' wide eyes – I am ugly, my hair and skin are deathly white, my eyes are black and I have claws instead of fingernails. Eco, raw cataclysmic energy, danced along my skin, threaded through my hair, waltzed tenderly down my spine. I am ugly, this I know and understand. It's a sickness I cannot fight, although I would tear the skin from my own bones if it would help. But wait – these are not my bones. For I am nothing, merely power who lives in a boy. A hero, some might say – he saved the world once, but it is nothing as to what I knew would come.

But then, this time he has me…

I do not know how I understand that what would come would be so much worse – I was made with the thoughts in my head. If I do indeed have a head to call my own, for I share this body, I cling to this soul, I pollute him, but it is what I must do. Without him I will die, I will return to wait once more, thousands of years perhaps – maybe forever…

Without me he shall surely die also…

I can still hear the fear in that rats voice, the faltering tone that brought the boy back fighting. An internal struggle neither of us could, or ever will understand. I did not want to lose control, to withdraw once more into the darkness. But I could not win, this I knew, for the body was not mine.

But at least I could taste sweet blood before I returned to the shadows…

That thought was in our head, making him scream and cry out inside my thoughts, made him struggle that much harder. I reached out, wanting to render flesh from bone, wanting to feel skin split beneath my claws, wanting to taste blood. But he bettered me – his power surged through and dragged me back like the undertow of a wave – and I had nothing to sink my toes into. He took away the feeling, making me scream as I lost contact with flesh, and was left but a shadow inside his skin…

I do not know when that changed either, when I became aware without having to be in control, when I could feel the new cloth on his flesh, and the wind on his skin. Perhaps it happened when we first left the chair behind – the witness of so much pain, brought on by the Baron and Erol. Jak hates them, for they put him through so much torment. I can read his memories; they are rich and so much better than my bland life of oblivion. I know his thoughts and emotions; I can feel his body aching with each step as he swears vengeance. I do not hate the two the same way. I do hate them, but they made me…

They are the masters of my creation, and they dragged me from the blackness…

Jak pushes on despite the fact he is exhausted, I think he is brave. Perhaps he is worthy of me, for my own teeth grit with the pain. His chest is on fire, and yet still he manages to make his way through the palace. We reached guards, I could feel the fury in his mind, and I could hear the pounding of his heart. I wanted to kill, but he would not let me, instead punching and kicking his way through. I was amused that he could do such a thing – this puny elf boy, hell I was even intrigued about how he managed to knock them out cold with two hits. But I like my way better, for it splits skin and is so much more brutal.

I like to be brutal…

I lingered there, as the rabid rat swayed on our shoulder, and spoke in our ear. I did not know what to think of it, except that I felt the need to kill it and skin it and feed on its marrow. Jak will not let me, for he loves it. No, not the sick and twisted kind of love, but the love of friends who have always been together.

I don't have friends…

I envy the rat, for he is counted as Jak's friend. I share a body with him, am I not closer than even the precursor? Daxter, yes, that is his name. He was always there, the first one to see me, the one who let me see myself. But this does not stop me wanting to kill him. Perhaps it is merely the annoyance of having something living so close by without being able to attack, to sink my fangs into his neck. I wonder if he has eco in his veins still, if it will pool out along with the blood. But Jak sensed my thoughts, as we came to floor where the guns were shot at us.

We roll, I can feel only fury in our mind, and I can taste anger on our tongue. I like it, but I do not try to get in control, as he dives through wood. The splinters fly everywhere, a few slivers sinking into our own flesh. I mentally scold him, for when I am in the darkness I can feel his pain magnified. There is an incredible sense of life back here, and I become aware of as I linger in the black.

It reminds me how good it is to be alive…

If I even am alive…

We came to a window now, looking down on the streets below. It is unfamiliar to both of us, but we have nowhere else to go. So we leap to the ground, and step forwards. Jak is angry again, and confused. He approaches an old man – I did not like him, for there was something disturbing in his eyes.

Ironic really, for you could say the same of me…

But he would prove helpful after some persuasion from us, which was good for him, otherwise I would of killed him on the spot, torn his head from his shoulders, yes, even in front of the boy. I didn't mind the boy, for some reason I felt close to him. Of course even I didn't know that I felt so close to him because I was, in fact, inside of him at the moment we first met. No, not him, but who he would turn out to be…

And then the guards came…

The rat was the first to say anything, of course, and I felt the rage build up inside myself. Jak attacked them, with feet and fists. They kept coming – I knew it would not be enough. That's why I took control, when I surged into his skin and spun, feeling my nails render flesh, spraying blood in a crimson shower over the guard. I didn't pause to look, but instead whipped around on my heel, exhilarated beyond reasoning. I rolled my shoulder, fingers lacing out to punch into the jugular of the next guard, below the heavy helmet, hearing him gurgle as he died and the people in the background scream at the sight of him pitching to his knees. I could taste blood in my mouth – it was not my own. And so I moved again, crouching low to rip muscles and hamstrings, sending more guards to the ground.

But I was not satisfied, and so I spun once more, and let both hands flash out, imbedding themselves in either side of the next mans neck, tearing the thin protection under his helmet, fingers clicking together inside his throat. I wanted to tear them out, but Jak took hold then, forcing me to pull my nails out the sides again rather that pulling out a chuck of his neck. I didn't care, not really, as I crouched and licked my lips, stabbing the next man in the back of the knee and letting him fall before slashing his hamstrings.

There was a chorus of screams from nearby, and I turn my black eyes to see the civilians cowering in the corner. I want to kill them, but I am interrupted by a sharp shock to the chest. My eyes narrow, fixing squarely on the guard. I lunge towards my next victim, the guard swore and raised his gun, but I sink my nails through the web of his thumb and forefinger, tearing the tender flesh and making the man drop his gun. There is a shout from behind me, and I grab the man, spinning and shoving him in front of me, so that the bullets riddled his flesh, perfect pockmarks in his uniform. Rings of blood…

I toss him aside, for he has no more use, and he slumps to the ground…

The last one ran at me, but I merely stayed in my crouch as he came closer and closer. A crosshair wavered on my chest – I didn't notice, for I had no concept of weapons. Instead I merely waited, till he came closer before I leapt forwards, my hand running up his leg in a split second, claws punching into the groan.

He screamed…

I laughed and slid my other hand up, severing both the veins, feeling the crimson liquid drench my hands, running down my arms and staining the sleeves of our shirt.

He screamed again, and I laughed harder, drawing my hands out as blood pumped down his legs and he fell backwards. I licked the blood from my claws, staying in the crouch for a while before I became aware of Jak trying to get back into control…

I growled in fury, but once more he managed to shove me back, and he rose. I could feel his stomach revolting as he saw my 'playground', but I pushed it down as I faded once more into the background and the old man came over. Yes, that old man, bearded and stooped, with a walking stick. The bodies of the guards were being dragged out of sight by civilians – doubtless from the underground and not wanting the other guards to see them and kill them all.

Personally I don't care at all…

The old man didn't seem to care what had just happened, he merely look at us oddly, before helping us out. But the boy – his eyes were wide, his mouth was open slightly. I forced us to not look, forced us to keep our eyes on the old man.

And then he left us…

He simply walked away, oblivious to the fresh blood that had pooled on the streets…

I did not like him…

He was too much like me…

We move now, with that rabid rat once more on our shoulder, bobbing along, chatting about the multitude of dead end alleys we apparently need to find. So Jak can get his revenge, but that did not bother me. I had no wish for it to be any different – the more his hate grew the more power surged through me. I am shadows and oblivion, stuck like a leech to his soul.

We see the alleyway; there is a large door with something painted on it. I wonder why they advertise their position so clearly; surely it would be better to put a large sign on top of the building that says 'underground situated here' with an arrow pointing down.

I think they are stupid to have such an easily accessible door…

A girl see us, I can almost feel Daxter slick his ears back, ready to speak. But then we see the other guy – he's rough and tumble, cold even. He leans forwards, I feel us shrink back. I am annoyed; I know I could rip the flesh from his face in an instant. But then he speaks, and steps away. I like his knife, but once again I like my way better.

It's so much more personal…

He does not like the rat, therefore I like him. He is interesting, although I did not know exactly why then. He reminded me of myself, if only slightly. But perhaps it was because he was only slightly like me that I didn't dislike him like I disliked that old guy – Kor. But I liked him, and I've learned it is always best to trust your instincts…

We go to dead town, I like it, and the name is suiting. But Jak feels no fury, and I cannot feed on it and take control. There are these little green things; I want to feed Daxter to them, or at least tear a few apart. Jak doesn't let me; he thinks he wears the pants…

To tell you the truth I found out that we both wear pants – mine are just a little more bloodstained…

Perhaps it is good we both have pants, I would not want to go into battle naked…

Or would I?

Enough of this…

He wouldn't let me out, and I didn't like it. But in the end, he was the one jumping up that crumbling building and nicking the flag, and he was the one in control when the whole thing collapsed.

We slid down a wire on our feet – the rat hit it with some more 'personal' parts and bounced off…

I laughed at him…

He amuses me, but when he stops doing so I will kill him. That is, if I can gain control, if not I won't be able to rip his eyes out. Jak doesn't like my thoughts; he wants me to go away.

I have nowhere to go…

The tattooed man is there, at the bottom, watching as the building falls down. There is shock on his face, this also amuses me. I did not know I could be amused, and it was a pleasant surprise. This elf lets us join; I can feel how grateful Jak is. I revolt…

He did the right thing…

If he had not I would of killed him, underground commando or no…

We leave; Daxter is sore and cannot stand upright well. His legs are bowed slightly, so instead of standing he sits on our shoulder, fingers curled up in cloth. I can feel his small claws on our skin, and it reminds me of myself.

There is nothing for me to say, and we walk on in silence, hijacking a car to get back to the underground faster. I like doing that; there is something incredibly nice about throwing some lady to the ground some 11 feet below. I like the way they sprawl, and the way their heads connect with the ground with a dull thunk. I don't think Jak likes it, but I don't care. If I must be second in command of this body I must at least have some perks…

Is that not right?

We appear once more at the underground, and I once again muse at the stupidity of having a door that opens as soon as you come near it…

One day a Krimzon Guard will find it, and everyone inside will be slaughtered…

I do not dislike the door anymore…

In fact I think it is a great idea…


End file.
